


A-mis

by ToothPasteCanyon (DannyFenton123)



Series: Transcendence AU [16]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Transcendence (Gravity Falls), Changelings, Gen, Horror, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2019-12-27 00:32:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18293252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DannyFenton123/pseuds/ToothPasteCanyon
Summary: Homeless. Faceless. Nameless.





	1. Chapter 1

                Gravity Falls. _Ugh_. Jenny can already tell this case is going to be a dumpster fire, and that’s before she even mentions the Pines family.

                “There’s the turn.”

                 She rolls her eyes. “I see it, Marcus.”

                “Okay, okay. It’s just, it’s a little foggy out-“

                “I said, I can see it. I’m not blind.”

                “Okay, okay.” Marcus shrinks back in his seat as she hooks a left. “Just trying to help.”

                In the fog, the forest looms like a great black cloud. There’s a sign just before it, first its shape and then its words emerging from the grey:

                ‘Welcome to Gravity Falls’, it reads. ‘Centre of the Transcendence. Population: weird.’

                Jenny grimaces. Oh, they’re weird, all right. Weird, and dangerous.

                …

                Okay, she’s not technically supposed to say they’re dangerous. Her agency doesn’t like that kind of talk; apparently ‘negative language’ gives ‘the wrong impression of our organisation’s intentions and values regarding the management of supernatural creatures.’

                (Somebody at HR was real pleased about that sentence, Jenny could tell.)

And sure, there’s probably plenty of supernaturals who are just living their lives and not trying to cause trouble. She doesn’t have a problem with them. She’s not some sort of pro-nat – fairies exist, they’re probably gonna keep existing, and whatever, she’s cool with that.

                Her hand tightens on the steering wheel.

                But then people start saying there’s no problem at all, and that’s what gets to her. Jenny works in _supernatural creatures containment_ , for god’s sakes! There’s nothing like that for humans, because there doesn’t need to be anything like that for humans, but _every time she points it out…!_

                Ugh. It’s stupid.

                Jenny glares at the road, at the little gnome colony she can see at the edge of the tarmac.

                This whole town is stupid. And _dangerous_ – people’ll call her a pro-nat for it, but it just is, okay? She can’t afford to be polite in this line of work.

                There’s another car coming; some rickety old van that hasn’t turned its high beams off. Jenny squints as they flash past her.

                “Ugh,” Marcus shields his eyes. “I hate it when people do that.”

                Jenny chuckles. “You ever been to this town?”

                “Not on official business.”

                “What, you went here on holiday or something?”

                “When I was six.” He straightens his collar. “My mom’s got a photo of all of us standing outside the Transcendence Museum.”

                “Oh. Cool.”

                He doesn’t say anything else, and Jenny drives on. The forest is thinning, and the first few buildings begin to form out of the fog. Figures on the street are faceless, and yellow beams out from every window like searchlights.

                Creepy little town. Jenny feels a sneer curling her lip.

                “I came here about ten years back.” She says. “Wasn’t a holiday. I was on official business.”

                “Oh. That’s-”

                “And I nearly died just trying to do my job! They drove me out of town.”

                Marcus makes a face. “I’m sorry. That’s-“

                “And I never wanted to come back, but, uh,” Jenny chuckles. “Neither does anyone else in the agency, and they didn’t want two junior officers on the case.”

                “Yeah. That makes sense.”

                Past the town. Back into the trees. The tarmac turns to gravel, and Jenny shakes her head.

                “Besides, if I was gonna take any case involving Gravity Falls, I’d take the one where we’ve actually been invited – by none less than the Pines family, too.”

                “What do you mean?”

                “They’re a big crime family, Marcus. You heard of the Dinner Crew?” A tall house is emerging from the fog, and she grimaces at the sight. “I don’t think they’ve ever called the government for help like this. Ever.”

                There it is. The Stanley Pines Memorial Library. The tires crunch to a stop in the gravel, the engine turns off, and now it’s quiet but for the creaking of a weather vane.

                Marcus gives a nervous smile at that. “Feels like a horror movie here.”

                He chuckles, but it dies off quickly as Jenny checks her equipment. Net, taser, syringes, dart gun… She places them all in a suitcase, snaps that closed, and finally turns to him.

                “It does feel like a horror movie.” She opens the door. “Stay close to me.”

                Jenny steps out, feeling in her inside pocket for her badge as she marches towards the house. The curtains twitch as she approaches; a second later, the front door swings open.

                “You’re here!” Says a man. “Come in, come in.”

                They’re ushered inside; Jenny notices claw marks on the edge of the door. She touches them with a finger, and frowns as the man leads them on.

                “In here. My wife is in the living room.”

                The living room… it's unrecognisable. The room is completely trashed; there’s burn marks on the ceiling and half the carpet is torn out. The wallpaper’s shredded and it lays in tatters on the floor along with glass shards from a smashed TV. There’s a couch, but the seat… it almost looks like it’s been melted away by some sort of acid. Fumes still rise up from the green tinged fabric, and the woman that greets them, baby in arms, is standing at the far corner of the room under the air vent.

                Next to her, Marcus lets out a low whistle.

                “Are they the agents?” The woman whispers. Jenny takes a step forwards.

                “Yes, Mrs Pines. I’m Jennifer Miles, senior agent for the Containment of Dangerous Supernatural Entities Agency.” She flashes her badge, and points to Marcus. “This is my subordinate officer, Marcus Sentrey.”

                Marcus motions to the room. “What happened-“

                “Can you describe to me the creature that did this?”

                Silence. There’s an almost palpable pain in the look the couple shared. The man sighs. “The creature. She's… um, it's upstairs.”

                Jenny cocks an eyebrow. “Sentient?”

                “Yes.”

                “That wasn’t how you described it on the phone.”

                “It’s been a pretty fast paced day.” The woman says. The baby makes a little murmuring sound, and she starts rocking it mechanically. “We tried to call again, they said you were already on your way-“

                “What’s changed?”

                Another look exchanged between the two of them. The woman speaks again.

                “Well, we told you it wouldn’t come down from the attic? Well it – she – it… it came down, and it started talking to us.” Mrs Pines looks down, and her eyes seem to stare at something beyond the floor. “It called me Mom. It’s sitting there, with all those legs…”

                Next to her, the man shudders. “We shouldn’t have moved to Gravity Falls. This is my grandfather’s old house- I-I thought it’d be better here. I don’t know what this place did to Artemis, but-“

                “That wasn’t Artemis.” Mrs Pines cuts him off. Her voice is terribly flat, devoid of emotion. “That wasn’t her. That was… something else. I want it gone, I want Artemis back.”

                Jenny frowns. “Who is Artemis?”

                “My daughter.” Mrs Pines grips the baby tighter. “Her twin.”

                “I see. We’ll do what we can, ma’am.”

                Marcus leans forwards. “I’m so sorry.”

                “Come on, Marcus.” She walks past him. “We need to contain this.”

                The stairs are just outside the living room; Jenny marches towards them, suitcase already cracked open. Marcus hurries to catch up to her. She reaches the base, and stops.

                Upstairs, it’s dark. Jennifer tests her weight on the first step, and hears the floorboards squeak. She grimaces.

                “No sneaking up on it, I see.”

                “Yeah, this house is… loud.” He lowers his voice. “Do you know what ‘it’ is?”

                “Oh, for sure. This is a classic changeling situation.”

                “Changeling?”

                “Some sort of Mindscape creature that managed to switch souls with a baby.”

                “Oh. That sounds bad – should we get reinforcements?”

                “No, no, I’ve dealt with one of these before. I caught it on my own.” Jenny glances towards the ex-living room. “This one seems powerful, but none of them can break even simple wards. We get it in the net, it’s not going anywhere.”

                “Okay.” He shuffles his feet. “What about… the, um-“

                “The baby?”

                “Yeah.”

                “We don’t know where they end up.” She points to the top of the stairs. “Someone might, though.”

                His expression hardens. “Alright. Let’s catch that thing.”

                “Stay behind me.”

                Up the stairs they go, one by one, creak by creak. Part of the banister has been torn down, and Jenny steps over it.

                _Creak_. They’re almost to the top when they hear a voice.

                “Hello?”

                Jenny freezes.

                “Mom? Dad?” The voice wobbles, like it’s pretending to be near tears. “Don’t come in. Please don’t come in, I can get this under control, I-I swear… Hello?”

                It’s coming from that door just a little down the hallway. Jenny turns to Marcus and points at it. He nods once.

                “Hello? Who’s there?”

                They reach the door. The handle is crumpled – it looks like something huge squeezed it too hard. Still, it turns. Jenny throws it open, and-

                “Don’t come in! Don’t come in!”

                The first thing she can see is the broken window, foggy white light streaming into the room. Bits of glass and wood are everywhere, as well as the twisted remains of some sort of crib. There’s another crib, right under the window, and a figure kneeling in front of it.

                It turns, and Marcus catches his breath at the sight of slitted yellow eyes. It’s human-ish, wrong in all the subtle ways: in the scales creeping up its clawed hands, in the shortness of its torso – just a pair of shoulders squished down onto legs – and in the way it stood on tiptoes, its ankles too far up its shins and its knees bent forwards like a wolf’s.

                It leans on the crib as it stars at them, those yellow eyes narrowing, that mouth – filled with glinting fangs, Jenny could see – opening, and starting to speak.

                “Who are you?”

                Jenny doesn’t answer it. She reaches into her briefcase, and grasps the dart gun.

                “You’re not Mom or Dad. What did you do to them?”

                Marcus frowns. “We didn’t do-“

                “It’s just playing with you, Marcus.” Jenny cuts him off with a hiss. “Don’t rise to the bait.”

                The changeling cocks its head. “Playing? What?”

                “You’re not as convincing as you think you are.” Jenny stepped forwards, one step, one creak. “What are you? Some sort of demon? What did you do to Artemis?”

                “Artemis?” It points to itself. “I’m Artemis. Artemis Pines.”

                “No, you’re not.”

                “I am! Why’s everyone saying that today? I am Artemis!”

                Trembling, it presses itself against the crib. Jenny can see its claws lengthening, its nose flattening, a couple black feathers popping up on the underside of its arm.

                “No, no, no – what’s happening?” Its fingers web together, and it clenches them. “I’m supposed to be human!”

                Jenny snorts. “ _That’s_ your best attempt?”

                It looks up at her, eyes wide.

                “Just drop the act already, will you? You honestly think anyone’s falling for that?”

                “Falling for-“

                “Where’s Artemis?”

                It shakes its head. “I'm-“

                “You’re not.” Her mouth twists up in a sort of grin. “Did you see your ‘Mom’ and your ‘Dad’? Do you look like them? Do you look anything like them?”

                “N-no, but-“

                “That’s right. Because you look like a freak.”

                “But I-I’m trying, I can make myself look like them-“

                “That’s worse.”

                Its mouth clamps shut. Jenny steps closer, and it shrinks back.

                “They don’t want you. They want Artemis. And if you won’t tell us where you’ve got her,” _Click_. The gun cocks, her finger’s on the trigger. “Then I’m sure someone back at base can get that out of you.”

                “Base?”

                Jenny fires. The changeling lets out a howl as the syringe hits its chest, fur growing in fast around the dart. It slouches down, all its features melting together, and slops onto the floor.

                Jenny rifles in her briefcase. She grabs the net.

                “Marcus, help me wrap this ar-“

                And then it rises back up. A roar, a hiss, a terrible scream – and double rows of teeth clamp shut around Jenny’s neck.

                “Jenny!”

                Claws dig into her shoulders. The changeling twists, and rips it out, rips it _off_.

                Blood paints the ceiling. Paints the crib. Paints the changeling.

                Screaming. It’s coming from Marcus.

                The changeling flinches, and looks at him with five- seven- ten- so many yellow eyes. It pushes Jenny back (and she just _slumps_ ), and now it’s flying. Black feathers on red. Marcus stumbles back, his knees giving out from under him, his arms coming up to shield his face-

                And it’s gone. Out through the window it flies, disappearing into the fog.

                Silence. Dreadful silence.

                Broken only by the creaking of a windvane.


	2. Chapter 2

                Sunny day. Blue sky stretches from horizon to horizon, and the trees rustle with a cooling breeze as their branches cast dancing shadows across the green, green grass of a park. There’s a path here where cyclists zoom past, and a playground full of laughing children, and down a hill there’s a lake, a blue, blue lake home to a flock of ducks.

                They paddle along, and they preen their feathers, and a couple of them waddle out of the water and peck at the ground, quacking contentedly. It’s all so peaceful-

                “ _Duckies_!”

                Then a little girl charges down the hill waving a half eaten sandwich and they scramble away.

                “Hey!” She stumbles to a stop at the edge of the water. “Why’d you run away! I got food! Here!”

                _Plop_!

                She drops the whole sandwich in the lake. It bobs there for a little, ham and cheese sinking to the depths while the bread starts breaking up into soggy chunks. The little girl kneels down, watching it with the intensity of a scientist conducting an intricate experiment.

                She watches, and a few ducks paddle over. They shy away from her touch, but they snatch a couple bites and shake their heads to break off their own piece. The little girl giggles at that.

                “You guys are funny. Quack quack quack!”

                Again she tries to reach for them, and they all flap and splash away from her hands.

                “Aww.”

                “ _Annie_!”

                The voice is coming from over the hill. The little girl whips her head around.

                “I’m over here, Mommy!”

                “Annie! Annie! Where are you? Come back here!”

                “Okay!” Annie turns back to the ducks. “Bye, guys. I hope you liked my sandwich. Even though it had butter on it.” She leans in closer, and whispers, “I don’t like butter.”

                One duck cocks its head to the side and stares up at her like it’s listening intently. Annie giggles again, but it cuts off as she notices-

                “Ohmygosh! Where’s your eye?” She reaches out, and gasps when it lets her touch it. “You’re sooo soft!”

                She starts stroking its back. Annie can feel its bones underneath those feathers, can feel how tiny and fragile it is. She goes as gently as a little kid can manage, her eyes as wide with wonder. It leans into the touch; its little head nuzzles her arm, and from somewhere in its chest comes a deep, rumbling purr.

                “Wow,” Annie breathes. “You’re like a little kitty.”

                “ _Diana Mason Pines_!”

                She jumps out of her skin and whirls around. Her mother is marching down the hill, fists balled, her father trailing behind her. Annie quails at the sight.

                "Mommy!"

                “There you are!” She’s wrapped in a tight hug before her mother pulls back and glares at her. “You can’t be running off like that! Didn’t you hear us!”

                “Yeah…”

                “Why didn’t you come? We didn’t know where you were - we were worried, Annie!”

                Annie shrinks down. “I’m sorry. I heard you, but I got distracted.”

                “Distracted?” Her father catches up. In his hands, he’s holding a little brown puppy. “What were you doing?”

                “I was feeding the ducks!”

                “Feeding the ducks? With…?“ He sighs. “Your sandwich. Of course.”

                “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

                She looks away, and her mother cups her face. “That’s very nice of you to do, Annie, but you can’t go wandering off like that. We told you to stay by the playground.”

                “Yeah…”

                “If you wanted to come down by the lake, we’ll take you. You just have to ask us first, okay?” She hugs Annie again. “Okay, sweetie?”

                “Okay.”

                “Plus, we can bring better food for the ducks.” Her dad adds. “I read somewhere that bread is actually really bad for them.”

                “Oh, no! I fed them a whole sandwich!”

                “It’s okay, Annie.” Her mother shoots him a look. “I’m sure your father _doesn’t mean to make you feel guilty over a nice gesture_. One little sandwich isn’t going to hurt them, but yes, why don’t we get special duck food instead of feeding them our lunch? James, what are ducks supposed to eat?”

                He makes a face. “Uh, I can look that up. You want to help me look it up, Annie?”

                “Yeah!” Annie skips over to him. “We should get all the best duck food so I can pet the little blind one again!”

                Mr and Mrs Pines share a look.

                “Blind one?”

                “Yeah! There’s a little duck with no eyes but it was super sweet and it let me pet it and it purred and-“ Annie squints at the lake. “Where’d it go? I can’t see it!”

                “Wait, did you actually _pet_ it?”

                “I did! It was real, Mommy! And it was so soft!”

                Her mother sighs. “You shouldn’t touch wild animals, sweetie. We need to-“

                “Why not?”

                “They’re dirty. We need to wash our hands now – come on.”

                She takes Annie’s hand and leads her along. In the dad’s arms, the puppy suddenly squirms; he puts it down, leashes it, and jogs to catch up with them.

                “A blind duck, huh?” He chuckles. “I wonder how it even survives in the wild. I don’t think it would last more than a few… what? Why are you giving me that look, dear?”

                “Bye bye ducks!” Annie waves at the lake. “I love you!”

                Most of the ducks keep quacking undisturbed, but one pops up from the water and blinks open two slitted yellow eyes. It watches her go up the hill and disappear from view.

                They quack once. Then they look around – to the right, to the left. They let a cyclist pass, and then paddle over to shore.

                They step onto land, revealing two silvery paws, dripping with lake water. They shake one, then the other, and then crouch down and spread their wings. They spread wider, wider, feathers lightening, spots forming, teeth sharpening-

                And with one beat, an owl with a smile full of fangs takes off into the air.

                They flap once, twice, over the hill, and glide over to a tree overseeing the playground. A branch bends as they land on it; they make themself a little smaller, and then fold their wings and look down on the children below.

                There’s a lot of them, playing in the sand and swinging on monkey bars and screaming as they chase each other. A lot of screaming – the owl quickly unexists their ears, and suddenly everything’s a lot more pleasant.

                Where’s Annie? Oh, there she is, climbing a slide the wrong way. Her feet are slipping all over the place, and the owl chuckles. Some kid at the top looks like he’s saying something to her – ‘get off!’ probably, judging by the hand gestures – and then he slides down into her and they tumble to the sand.

                The owl watches Annie shoot up and offer a hand to the kid. She helps him to his feet, and they both skip off like that’s the most normal interaction in the world.

                Human children are weird.

                They sit back, shaking their head. Their stiff feathers chafe against the bark, so they shift into something more comfortable- furry brown squirrel legs, with a bushy tail that wraps around the branch. That’s better.

                Annie’s going over to the swingsets now. She can’t quite jump into the seat; after a little scrambling, she gives up and lays down belly first, her arms hanging loose and her legs kicking at the sand to get a swing going.

                And then she stops. Stands up, and looks behind her like she’s heard something.

                They follow Annie’s eyes, and see two figures walking towards her.

                Two figures.

                Their smile falls as they watch Mrs Pines lift her daughter up into the seat. Mr Pines pushes her, and they watch Annie try to not hold onto the chains – Mrs Pines leans in close to say something, and she grabs them quickly. They watch her go higher, higher, her legs kicking up into the air, her smile stretching from ear to ear, her laughter almost audible, her joy…

                Deafening.

                They turn away. With scaly hands they scale the tree, climbing up, up, up to the top, and with a wingbeat the dragon takes to the air and flies away, past the park, past the town, past all the buildings and into the forest.

                They roar, and breathe fire into the clouds.

 

* * *

 

                Time passes. The forest turns to meadows, and the dragon turns to a pegasus with great black wings and hands for hooves. They spread their fingers wide, feeling the breeze on their bare skin. One flap, and they start floating down as the meadow turns to highway, turns to streets and turns to town.

                They turn their hands into hooves, and touch down in an alley. Clop, clop, clop, go their feet on the pavement as they slow to a stop. They check behind them, and then they start walking.

                Clop, clop, clap, clap clap go their shoes on the concrete, and the human adjusts their shades before they walk out onto the street. People pass them without a second glance, even if their claws get a little long as they walk in front of storefront after storefront, each one laced with wards.

 _Wards_. Anti-changeling spells seem to push at them from all sides. Pushing them to the very edge of the sidewalk. Pushing from within them, pushing against their skin and all of a sudden, this form feels so small, so very confining.

                They grit their teeth. Their jacket’s grown fur; they decide to embrace that, letting it come in thick and luxurious with pockets to hide their paws in.

                Nearly there, nearly there.

                Coming out of the narrow street is like a breath of fresh air. Just across the road is a red-bricked wall with a big archway; in white letters it spells out ‘University of New California’.

                They look both ways across the street, and hurry over. Anti-flight wards loom above them, and as soon as they’re through they make a beeline for the trees, their jacket billowing out behind them-

                And they run, and they run, and they run. Four paws beat against the ground, two tongues loll out of their snout as they weave in between trees and sprint across campus quads. They slow to a stop in front of a giant library, tall steps leading up to a sleek glassy building that looms several stories high.

                They glance left and right – somebody’s staring at them, they notice. Is it the collar? No, they’ve got the collar on…

                The tongues. Right. They close their mouth and pad away before the man can do anything about it. Around the back of the building, where it’s quieter.

                They stand, and wrap a cloak around their shoulders. Their fangs are still long; they lengthen them a little more, and let their skin grow pale, let their ears form points. When they walk, they stick to the shade.

                Up the library steps they go, and the wards begin to set in. They draw their cloak tighter around their body, and they clench their jaw to keep it from lengthening. Each stair’s a little harder than the last, and they stop at the top of them.

                They raise their hand, and wave. Inside, a man behind a desk looks up, and jumps off his seat. He hurries to the door.

                “Hello!” The man holds it open. “Do you want to come inside?”

                And just like that, all the pressure falls away. They give a fanged smile.

                “Yes. Thank you.”

                “No problem, sir. Do you need any help finding a book, or…?”

                “No. Thank you.”

                They pass through the door, and AC hits them like a chilly breeze. Rows and rows of bookshelves line the far wall, but their eyes fix on the computers just by the front desk. They walk over, pull out the chair, sit on the chair, and pull the chair in.

                Their middle finger presses ctrl. Their middle finger presses alt. The finger between them presses delete.

                Password: ‘guest’. It’s loading. They glance around the library; there’s a group of students talking quietly in the corner, and the man at the front desk is reading a book. He catches their eye and gives them a smile.

                They look back. It’s loaded.

                Nudging the mouse around with their fingertips, they go over to google, then to their email. They punch out the letters of their address:

                amis12345@gmail.com

                And then they peck the mouse.

                Alright, they’re in, and there’s the document they’ve emailed to themself. Their fingers twitch as they select it, aching to stretch, aching to be _something else_. They start to web together, but the vampire clasps their hands together.

                Vampire. That’s right. They rest their chin on their knuckles, trying to make the gesture look casual.

                The document loads, and they lean forwards.

 _‘My thesis,’_ the title reads, ‘ _on how to bring back changeling babies’_

                Thesis… they’re still not sure if that’s the right word. It’s what the librarian said one year ago, when they walked up to that desk for the very first time.

                “Books on changelings? Oh, is that for your thesis?”

                They sigh. It’s like a long essay with lots of research. It pretty much fits, but it still feels… sort of wrong. Everyone around here is doing a thesis; this feels more like a mission. A duty.

                An apology.

                They open a tab, and paw at the keyboard until they spell out ‘changelings’.

 

* * *

 

                Starry night. The crescent moon smiles down on the houses below, lighting up the roads and the lawns and the leaves of trees with a soft white light. A cat slinks along the fence of one of these houses, and their black coat takes on a ghostly sheen.

                They sit, and stares up at the second floor. There’s still a light on, there.

_Woof! Woof, woof!_

                They look down, and their yellow eyes fix on a little brown puppy. It’s barking and scratching at the fence with a desperate energy; the cat’s tail twitches once, and then it drops into the yard.

                The fence shudders, and a lion stands in front of the little dog. It freezes – one, two seconds pass, and then it launches itself at one of their thick paws. The lion lets out a snort and then sinks down, letting it climb all over them and nip at their ears.

                “Sadie!” The back door opens. “Sadie girl, come here!”

                The little dog tumbles down their mane and dashes towards the voice. Sitting up, they watch her go, watch a hand come down and scratch her head before letting her inside.

                For a moment, they just stay there. Then they stretch, let out a rumbling yawn, and leap up onto the fence again. They’re a small black cat; the wood doesn’t even creak.

                They make their way over to a tree with a branch hanging over their head. Tense, and leap – in one movement they’re on it, and they walk down the limb and up the trunk.

                Eye level with the light on the second story, they stop. They sit. They peer inside.

                Annie’s room. They can’t see Annie, but they can see someone perched on the edge of a bed. They can see a book in her hands, they can see her mouth moving, her eyes glancing down from time to time. They can see her turning the page. They can see her reach the end, and they can see a little hand reach out to her.

                They can see Mrs Pines take that little hand and hold it tight. She smiles, and they can see her mouth ‘I love you’. They can see her lean down and kiss Annie goodnight before standing up, and walking away.

                They can see the room go dark. They see that, and they sit back.

                Wind rushes through their fur. Bark scrapes against their paws. They let their fur grow long and shaggy, they let their paws turn to thick hooves but…

                Somehow, it’s still cold.

                Somehow, it still hurts.

                They close their eyes, and dream of warmth.


	3. Chapter 3

                Early morning sun shines down on a building. It’s big and brown-bricked, with a flat roof and a yellow gate barring the entrance.  A sign outside the parking lot spells the name: ‘MINERVATH ELEMENTARY SCHOOL’.

                Cars are beginning to turn in. Children trickle through the gate. A speckled white owl lands on the sign with a mouse in their beak, ruffling their feathers and paying no mind to the gasping and finger pointing coming from the drop off lane. A couple ‘ewww’s reach their ears as they swallow it whole; they give a distinctly humanlike eyeroll to that.

                Whatever. There’s only a bunch of coffee shops at the university and they’re _not_ planning to subsist off of stale cookies and scones, thank you very much.

                “Whoa, pretty birdie!”

                They are attracting a little too much attention, though. The changeling backs away from a couple too-curious children and takes off, changing mid-flight into a scraggly crow. Landing on a lightpost, they ruffle themselves up and give a little caw before looking down at the crowd, watching, waiting.

                They don’t see her at first. Maybe they already missed her – their heart sinks at the thought, but they keep looking, and, eventually, they spot who they’re looking for, hand-in-hand with her parents.

                Annie’s not looking so bubbly today. The changeling notices how she hunches under her hot pink backpack, drags her flashing-sneakers-wearing feet. Mr Pines tries to swing her arm up, but she’s not in the mood.

                She mumbles something, and the changeling crawls down as a lizard to listen.

                “…if they don’t like me?” Annie’s saying. Her father shakes his head.

                “Nonsense, kiddo. They’ll love you! We love you.”

                “But you guys are my parents. You _have_ to love me.”

                Mr Pines gives a chuckle. “I dunno about that. There’s a lot of bad parents out there.”

                “What do you mean?”

                “Don’t worry about it, kiddo.”

                “Huh? Dad?”

                Her mother puts a hand on Annie’s shoulder. “Look,” she says, and she kneels down. “It’s okay to be nervous. I’ll let you into a little secret, okay? We’re a little nervous too.”

                “Really?”

                “It’s your first day of school, it’s a whole new thing! We’re so excited for you!” She wraps Annie up into a hug. “But we’re also nervous. And we’re gonna miss you the whole time you’re there.”

                The changeling backs up. Hides behind the lamppost as it watches Annie squeeze her back just as tightly.

                “I’m gonna miss you guys too.”

                “It won’t be for long.” Mrs Pines strokes her hair. “Not at all. And when you come back at the end of the day, you’ll be able to tell us all about the fun things you did in school.”

                “What if I don’t have fun? What if nobody likes me? What if the teacher is mean like Miss Trunchball or-”

                “Shhhh. Shhhh.”

                “But what if she is?”

                Mrs Pines hesitates. She cups Annie’s cheek.

                “Then you can tell us about that, too. And we’ll fix it.”

                “You promise?”

                “We promise.” Both Mr and Mrs Pines say. Mr Pines reaches over and ruffles her hair.

                “We’re here for you, kiddo. You don’t need to be scared.”

                “I think you’ll have fun, anyway.” Mrs Pines smiles. “Give it a chance, Annie. You promise me you’ll give it a chance?”

                Annie gives a solemn nod. “I promise, Mom.”

                “Okay. Off you go, now. I love you.”

                “I love you too.”

                The changeling watches them bundle together into one last hug. They watch Annie squeeze her parents tight, then let go and back away, waving. They watch her wave, wave, and then turn around, walking to the school gates with her flashing pink sneakers.

                Walking alone. Mr and Mrs Pines notice that too.

                “I hope she makes friends.” Mrs Pines says, and sinks back on her heels. Her husband helps her up.

                “She will. She’s a delight.”

                “She is. I know she is.” Her voice is thick; the changeling can hear the lump in her throat. “I think she gets lonely, though…”

                Mr Pines squeezes her shoulder, and the changeling turns away. They unfurl wings and fly past the couple, fly low and fast above the heads of so many children. Just ahead, Annie gives the principal by the gate a nervous smile. She walks through-

                And the changeling cannot follow. Wards sink into them like a wall of thorns and they pull up, squawking, struggling to keep their form with a hundred startled eyes on them. They limp away to the nearest lamp post, breathing hard, hearts pounding as they struggle to settle the burning, shifting itch under their skin…

                They watch Annie walk into school, alone. They watch her open a door and disappear into the building, without her sister.

                _Without her sister_. The changeling hangs their head.

                 _But you’re not her sister, are you._

 

* * *

 

_Section 3 - Mechanics of Changeling Soul Transfer_

_Very few scientific papers have been published on the subject of changeling soul transfer. Research efforts have been hampered by the government’s longstanding policy of ‘catch and destroy’, and agencies such as the CDSEA are_

                The changeling clicks over to the government website, and frowns at one of its articles: ‘Baby Killers Walking Free: Here’s What To Do If You Come Across an Unreported Changeling’. They go back to their document, and continue typing.

_unreliable at best. Any efforts to relax legislation on ‘baby killers’ would be highly opposed by not only pro-naturalists but large sections of the population, so the situation is unlikely to change in the near future._

_In short, wellllll fuck_

                With a chuckle, they delete that last bit. They keep going, sometimes with six fingers, sometimes five, sometimes with a seventh that pops out of their wrist and jabs the space bar.

_Current understanding is that soul transfer is only possible in babies under six months old, before their connection to the Mindscape is properly insulated. Warding is almost completely effective in preventing soul transfer, but wards must be recast every seven years and outside spaces are unable to be protected._

_As for the soul transfer itself,_

                They stop. They rub their wrist, check the time, let their hands meld together for a moment before pulling them apart and continuing.

_it is poorly understood. An anecdotal account from a changeling suggests that it may not be malicious. The changeling came into the body with only the memories of the previous host. Indeed, it believed itself to be human_

                They stop again. Their fingers are trembling. Their skin, burning.

_until proven otherwise._

_It has no memory of the Mindscape. It certainly has no memory of deciding to enact the soul transfer. Maybe those memories were lost in the transfer or hidden, but that doesn’t make sense, why would I-_

_why would it do that in the first place if it was just going to forget whatever it came to the physical world to do? And even if that was true_

                The changeling lets out a grunt and hunches over the desk, their hands gripping the edge until it threatens to crack. The fire under their skin has grown into a choking inferno; they gasp for air like a fish.

                Like a fish… they shouldn’t have thought that. The vampire jumps up and dashes for the bathroom, a hand on their neck where they can feel gills forming. Hopefully they’re still a vampire when they get there.

                Through the door. Into the stall. They turn the lock with something that’s not quite a hand, and then they _let go_.

                For a time, they don’t know what they are. Their vision blinks through infared to ultraviolet as different eyes bubble up and collapse. Their skin turns scaled turns furred turns feathered – they have seven wings and they sink under the weight on their shoulders. Now the wings are gone. Now they’re something else, and something else again, and something else again. No control; it’s all they can do to keep themselves in the stall.

                They’re torn between a hundred forms – a hundred _stolen_ forms.

                The changeling grits what teeth they have, swallows a lump in whatever throat they’ve formed, because everything they have is stolen. Everything they are belongs to someone else. It’s not fair. It’s not fair, it’s not fair, _it’s not fair-_

                “Hey, uh, buddy?”

                The changeling jerks up at a knocking on their stall.

                “You okay in there?”

                They wipe their eyes with a paw, and shift a human mouth to respond.

                “I-I’m-“

                Dammit, too shakey. They let out a shuddering breath, and cringe as the voice continues.

                “Oh, dear. You want me to get someone for you?”

                Nope, nope, nope. The changeling backs up, shifting into a little spider to crawl through the gap in the stall. Once on the other side, they assume the form of a vampire again, flush the toilet, and walk out as casually as they can manage.

                “Hello? Can you still hear me?” They brush past the guy – looks like the janitor – still trying to coax them out of the first stall. He barely spares them a glance. “Let me go and get someone, okay?”

                The vampire holds the door for him as he jogs out of the bathroom. They follow just behind, sparing a glance towards the windows. They should get going.

                (Not that they could stay long, in the state they’re in.)

                They wiggle the mouse on their computer, and grimace when the document comes up. They don’t like leaving their stuff alone; you never know when a curious human is going to go snooping around.

                They spare a glance around – there’s a few students are huddled around tables crowded with soda cans, the janitor’s talking in low tones to the librarian about ‘some guy in the bathroom, he sounds like he’s in trouble’. Nobody’s paying attention to them.

                Turning back to the computer, the changeling closes their document and logs off. Their fingers are fast growing claws; it really is time to go. They duck out into the afternoon light, feeling the door and the wards slam closed behind them.

                They take off like an explosion.

 

* * *

 

                It’s the sound of sniffling that makes them freeze. The changeling looks down, and spots Annie on a bench outside school.

                Her bag is clutched between her feet. Her head is bowed, hiding the blotchiness. She wipes her face with her sleeve and shoots glances down the street, watching for her parents. Waiting, desperately; they can see how far she’s leaning forward.

                The changeling frowns in concern. _Oh, no._ What’s wrong? Where’s her parents? They should be here soon.

                Annie sniffs. The changeling taps their claws on the lamp post.

                They should be here soon. Like, five minutes… or maybe longer. Maybe she’ll be sitting there for a while, _just crying by herself_...

                Dammit.

                They’re going to have to do something, aren’t they.

                The changeling thinks for a moment, and then crawls down the lamp. Near the bottom, they push off and slink to the ground as a fluffy black cat, tail up and waving. They pad towards Annie; she doesn’t notice them at first, so they give a meow.

                Annie looks up. Locks wide eyes onto theirs. They resist the urge to run away – instead, they sit in front of her and meow again.

                “H-hi there.” Annie wipes her eyes. “Where d-did you come from, little buddy?”

                She reaches a hand out and brushes their forehead.

                “Whoa.” The changeling leans into the touch, and she giggles. “You’re so soft. And so friendly, too, you’re- oh!“

                The changeling jumps up onto her shoulder; Annie gives a startled laugh at that.

                “Oh-kay, you are _super_ friendly! Are you comfy up there?”

                They nuzzle her head, purring. Annie scratches their chin – touch. It feels so good to have that; they drape themselves around her neck, head right in the crook of her shoulder, just letting her pet them…

                “Wow! Can I pet your cat?”

                The changeling looks up, and sees a little girl standing over the two of them. Annie blinks.

                “Oh, this isn’t my cat.”

                She frowns. “It’s not?”

                “No. It’s super weird. She just came over and jumped on my shoulder.” Annie strokes the changeling a little more. “She really likes me for some reason.”

                “So you’re, like, a cat whisperer.”

                Annie pauses. A little smile spreads across her face. “Cat whisperer. Yeah.”

                “Can I pet it?”

                “Oh, sure! I mean, if she’ll let you…”

                The changeling stiffens as another hand comes towards them, but, reluctantly, they let it happen. This kid’s a little rougher than Annie, a little pull-ier. Whatever.

                “Wow, it’s so soft!”

                “I know!” Annie’s voice lowers. “So, uh, what’s your name?”

                “Huh?”

                “What’s your name?”

                The girl smiles. “Oh, I’m Martha. Nice to meet you!”

                “Nice to meet you, too.”

                “Annie!”

                The changeling whips their head around and fixes on two people coming down the street. Mr and Mrs Pines wave, and they scamper off Annie’s shoulders.

                “Oh, uh, bye! Hi, Mom! Hi, Dad!”

                The changeling runs under a car, and then crawls out as a squirrel, dashing into a bush and watching from within the leaves. They see Annie hug her parents, and wave goodbye to Martha as she walks away. They watch her turn back to her parents and jump around in excitement as she mimes something walk up to her and jump up onto her shoulders. Mrs Pines raises an eyebrow, but she smiles nonetheless.

                They take Annie’s hand, and walk home together. The changeling’s own smile wanes as they watch them disappear.

                This isn’t their family. Annie isn’t their sister.

                (They’re stolen, _they stole them_ …)

                But still.

                But still, it’s nice to pretend, sometimes. It’s nice to do a little more than watch from afar.


	4. Chapter 4

               The next day, the changeling smiles as they see Annie and Martha dash out of school, giggling with a warmth that tickles their very soul. There’s another kid, too, a boy who follows from a distance. His arms are crossed, and he looks around with a skeptical expression as they stop by the bench.

               “So, where is it?”

               “I don’t know.” Annie looks around. “She was here yesterday; she should come back. She really liked me.”

               “Really.”

               “Really, bro!” Martha chimes in. “I saw it! She’s the cat whisperer.”

               It dawns on the changeling that Annie’s waiting for them. Their eyes widen, and they hesitate for a moment before ducking under a car and switching into a cat again. When they come out, the squeal Annie gives them feels… weird. Loud.

               Kind of amazing.

               “You’re back!” She starts to dash over, but slows right down when she sees the changeling freeze. “It’s okay, little buddy. I'm not gonna hurt you. Hey, you want some food? I saved some for you from lunch!”

               Annie rummages in her bag, and they watch Martha lean over to her brother.

               “I told you there was a cat, Ed. Now you owe me candy.”

               He scowls.

               “Look! Here!” Annie holds out a crumpled sandwich. “You want this? It’s chicken!”

               The changeling takes it, and then hops up onto her shoulders again.

               “Haha, watch out! You’re gonna get crumbs all over me.” She turns around slowly. “You guys wanna pet her now?”

               Martha comes right over, followed by her brother. More grubby little kid hands touching the changeling; they tolerate it.

               “It’s kinda cool, I guess,” Ed says after a moment. He shoots a look at Martha. “What?”

               “Why don’t you ever just say you like stuff?” She heaves a sigh at Annie. “He does this all the time.”

               “I do not!”

               Annie giggles. “Sounds like you do.”

               “I do not! And you guys are the ones getting all excited over some cat, so I don’t know why you’re laughing at me.” He pets the changeling a little rough. They shoot him a glare, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “What are you calling her, anyway? Just ‘Cat’? That’s dumb.”

               “Hey, be careful with her.” She bats his hand away. “I dunno what I’d call her. Maybe she already has a name?”

               The changeling flicks their tail. Names… that’s an awkward topic. Good thing they don’t have to chime in.

               “She doesn’t have a collar. She’s probably a stray.”

               Martha shrugs. “She’s like, really black. So Blackie?”

               “That’s almost as dumb as Cat. What about… _Audacious_?”

               Audacious? The changeling lets out a snort, which they quickly conceal as a sneeze. These little humans are hilarious.

               “Bless you, little buddy.” Annie raises an eyebrow. “What’s ‘audacious’?”

               “It’s a word. I read it in a book!”

               “No, what does it mean?” A pause. “You don’t know?”

               Ed gives another sulky scowl. “Well, it sounds cooler than Blackie, okay?”

               They all laugh, and the sound slowly fades into concentrated silence. The changeling can feel Annie scratching their chin as she thinks; they give a rumbling purr, and she smiles.

               “Little Buddy,” she says. “That’s what I’ve been calling her already, right?”

               “That’s not a real name.”

               Martha snickers. “Neither is Audacious.”

               The remark sends Ed spluttering. “Wha- Bu- You’re the worst sister ever!”

               “Nuh-uh. I’m the best.”

               “Worst!”

               “Best.”

               “Worst!”

               “Best.”

               “Best?”

               Martha splits a grin. “Oh, so you do think I’m the best?”

               “No, you’re supposed to get confused and say- argh.” Ed rolls his eyes. “Whatever. I guess Little Buddy’s not the worst name. It’s better than Blackie.”

               “It’s better than-“

               “Don’t you even dare, Martha!”

               Annie giggles. “You guys are funny. Why do you fight so much?”

               “He’s my little brother, silly!” Martha reaches over to noogie Ed’s head; he grabs her wrist. “It’s our job to fight.”

               “Yeah?” She slows the chin scratching. “That sounds fun. Sounds fun… huh?”

               The changeling jumps off her shoulder; they’re done with this conversation. Annie blinks.

               “Oh, bye! Bye, Little Buddy!”

               “Bye, Buddy! My brother says bye too even though he’s dumb!”

               “Shut your face, Martha.”

               With a flick of their tail, they wave goodbye. Then they duck under the shade of a car, and shed that black fur – it was getting a little hot. A little heavy.

               “Well, we’ve gotta go.” From the darkness, they watch Martha wave at Annie. “Thanks for showing us your cat whispering skills.”

               Ed crosses his arms. “Yeah. It was kinda cool.”

               “Thanks, guys! I’ll see you by the swings tomorrow?”

               “Yeah! Have a nice day!”

               “You too!”

               They wave goodbye, and the changeling settles down, watching Annie sit on the bench with a big smile on her face. They have a smile, too, because they’re buddies.

               …Eh, sort of buddies. It’s a capital B, a pet’s name, and it comes with a bunch of sticky kid fingers that make them want to find the nearest lake and dunk themselves into it. They’re not keen on this dumb cat persona they’ve set up; it feels a little deceptive, they shouldn’t keep it up.

               But still. They’re _buddies_ , and that’s a name. That’s a relationship, between them and no one else.

               They watch Annie skip off with her parents in tow.

               Maybe they'll come back again tomorrow.

 

* * *

 

               It settles into a routine, these visits. All through the morning, the changeling hunts in the forest or scavenges from restaurant tables. They’ll often be on wing, weaving between trees and table legs; sometimes they like to go out in the forest as a lion, but that quickly gets tiring if they don’t catch something big.

               However they find a meal, they usually have a few hours to spend at the university working on their thesis. They look up research, avoid talking to people (even to that librarian, who’s gotten a bit nosey as of late) and keep an eye on the clock as it counts up to one.

               When it’s time, they fly. It takes them about an hour if they’re something fast.

               Where are they going?

               Well, it’s varied over the years. They used to go to Minervath and hang out under a car, waiting for the bell to ring and for Annie to come scampering out, calling, ‘Buddy! Little Buddy!’ For the first few weeks she’d bring an increasingly large flock of kindergartners with her – the changeling was starting to dread it, but the crowd tapered off and soon it was just her and sometimes Ed and Martha. They could deal with that.

               Years passed, and Annie moved to middle school. It was further out for the changeling, but she started walking back from school on her own; they’d meet her from an alleyway and ride her shoulders all the way home. Annie was always chatting on the phone with her friends – Martha wants to hang out Sunday, Ed needs to copy her homework for that science class _please just one more time Annie I’ll stop falling asleep_ , mundane things like that.

               The changeling would close their eyes and listen to her voice. It was almost like she was talking to them.

               “How’s your day going?”

               “Sunday sounds good, but I’m gonna double check with my Mom.”

               “Ohhh my god, dude, again? You’re ridiculous.”

               Those were the good days. She’s in high school now, and…

               “You’re moving, Martha?”

               It’s been a rough transition. On the walk home, Annie sometimes reminded them of the little girl crying on the bench all those years ago. She’s doing better now, but she’s still more… subdued. She doesn’t talk on the phone so much anymore. She hugs the changeling tighter every time they jump on her shoulders. She walks more slowly, like the wind’s been taken out of her sails.

               The changeling hates to leave her like that. They stay on Annie’s shoulders right up to the front door, right up until the wards threaten to force them off. Then they circle around the back, and spend the night on the tree in the yard.

               The years may pass, but every night they go to sleep on its branches, staring up at the sky. Every night, they wonder if there’s more to this life of theirs.

               Maybe there is. They wonder if they deserve it.

* * *

 

               “It’s one.”

               The changeling looks up. Look over at the desk, where the librarian smiles at them.

               “You always leave about this time, don’t you?”

               They check the time, and purse their lips. “I guess I do. Thank you.”

               Standing up, they turn off the computer and vow to be a little less predictable. They don’t like people knowing their schedule; maybe going at twelve thirty some days could break up the pattern…

               “No problem, sir. Where are you headed off to?”

               Where are they headed? They freeze.

               “Like, work, or…?” The librarian shrugs. “School? School gets out around this time; you got a-”

               “No. Work. I go work.” They clear their throat. “I go to work.”

               “Oh, really? Where do you?”

               “I have to go now. I am late.” They brush past the desk. “Have quiet day.”

               With that, they head outside, walk to the back of the building, and take off as a speckled black-and-white owl. After crossing campus and ducking under the wards, they climb high above the ground, angling their wings, shaping their body to gain a little more speed.

               A smaller bird flutters just below them, and they snatch it out of the sky. Free food – they’re certainly not complaining. The changeling snacks on it the rest of the way.

               They soar over a huge forest, watching it go by like clouds as they fly. It clears slowly, and revealing a familiar town on the horizon. The changeling dips down, and heads for a certain alleyway on a street just outside the local high school. They land on a dumpster with furry black paws, and quickly toss the bird into it before walking up to the street.

               (It’s a necessary step. Annie does not let them up on her shoulder if she sees them eating dead things – the changeling learned that years back.)

               There they sit, and wait.

               It’s not long before a familiar figure comes trudging in their direction. Annie perks up at the sight of them.

               “Hey, Buddy!” She leans down and gives them a good scratch under the chin – the changeling can’t help but purr at that. “Aww. You love the chin rubbings, don’t you?”

               They hop up onto her shoulder, and drape themselves around her like a neck pillow. Annie’s used to it by now; she laughs and gives them a squeeze.

               “You little weirdo,” Annie says as she straightens. “You comfy? Alright, the Pines train is a-rolling.”

               Off she goes. The changeling closes their eyes, lets their tail swing in the rhythm of her walk. A purr rumbles through their being as she strokes their neck with a thumb. She talks, and they quiet down a bit to listen.

               “Halfway through finals, heck yes. I got… what have I got? English tomorrow? Ugh, essays suck.”

               Annie isn’t so much talking to the changeling as she is talking at them. Still, they bob their head a little in agreement – essays _suck_.

               “Summer vacation, just gotta keep in mind summer vacation… oh!”

               The changeling opens their eyes. Oh?

               “Gotta call Martha back – you remember Martha, right? And Eddie?” She takes a hand away to fish around in her purse. “She was saying something _aammaazziinngg_ today – they might be coming over for two weeks!”

               She’s excited; they can hear it in her voice, and it makes them smile. They remember how much she misses those two humans – it’ll be nice for her to see them again.

               Annie digs her phone out, and puts it to her ear. “Okay, okay, let’s do this. C’mon, Martha…”

               It’s a little hard to balance with her arm up like that. The changeling shifts little thumbs and holds onto her hoodie. That’s not particularly comfortable, so they shuffle themself more onto the other side, trying their best not to pitch forwards as she keeps walking.

               “Huh, nothing… no signal? Seriously?”

               The changeling looks down at the parting in her hair, frowning. No signal is weird – they’re in the middle of town. They try looking at her phone, but it’s hard to difficult when they’re up on her shoulder.

               They look around instead. It’s usually a quiet street, but suddenly the absence of people sticks out to them. No, it _really_ sticks out right now – they can feel the hairs rising on the back of their neck.

 _Something’s wrong_.

               That’s when they notice a van.

               It’s just behind them.

               Coloured dark green, some kind of pest control logo on the side. Windows are tinted – they can’t see the driver.

               It’s moving at a crawl. Far slower than the speed limit.

 _Something’s wrong_.

               “Ow, hey!” Annie starts swatting at them. “Quit it with the claws, ya jerk! That... hurts? What’s wrong?”

               The van is coming up right alongside Annie. It’s radiating _wrongness_ ; they freeze in place, clutching her shoulder, thoughts racing a mile a minute – _get out of here go right now Annie have to get Annie out of here how to get her to go­_ -

               The door slides open, and there’s no time to think. A hand is reaching for Annie – they bite it hard.

               “Argh!”

               “Whoa!” Annie jerks back – the changeling just barely holds in. “What the hell? What are you… you…”

               Two, three men with nets come out of the van. “Stop!” The first one points something at her. “Do not run or we will be forced to shoot!”

               She holds her hands in front of her. “I’m not running! What’s going on? What’s-“

               “Shut up!” The man barks. “Pines?”

               “Pines? Yes-“

               “Artemis Pines?”

 _Artemis Pines._ The changeling feels their stomach drop, their blood roar in their ears. Faintly, they can hear Annie’s voice, laced with bewilderment.

               “Artemis? Huh?”

               “You said you’re the Pines one.”

               “I’m Annie- uh, Diana, Diana – Pines, I don’t know who-“

               “ _Shut up_!”

               She clamps her mouth shut. The three men are advancing on Annie, and the changeling can feel her trembling – they have to do something.

               They have to do something _now_.

               The changeling leaps off her shoulder and lands in front of her. They let out a spitting hiss; the man points his gun at them.

              "Oh, would you look at that."

               “Wait!” Annie’s voice reaches a desperate note. “That’s just my cat! Don’t hurt her!”

               The man cocks the gun. He’s smiling, they notice.

               He hadn’t been before.

               “Got you.” He says, and a shiver passes through their being. _This is a trap. They've been found_.

               No more time for hiding.

               The changeling surges forward. They’re not a housecat anymore – they let their paws balloon into lion’s claws, and they swat the gun away before crashing into the man. Then they leap onto the van and spread massive wings-

                _Pain._  A dart embedded in their hindquarters. It burns like fire; they roar and stumble and topple off the far side of the van, landing hard on the road.

               Shouts. Yells. The squeaking of the suspension. The pounding of their heart. It’s too loud. _Too loud_. The pain twists deeper – it’s spread to their whole body, it’s coiling around their mind, and-

               Anger. Anger presses against them, washes over them. Their vision goes in and out of focus, and everything starts to look stark. Shadows and white, and white hurts white is _too bright_ …

               They scratch deep marks in the tarmac. Growl. Hiss.

               Noise. They look up.

               Shadows. Surrounding them. Too close.

               Everything is burning

               screaming

               something on their back

               just

               stop,                STOP

STOP JUST STOP PAIN STOP NOISE STOP NO NO STOP NO TOUCH STOP STOP STOP

               STOP

                              stop

stop…

               must get out…

                               **no move.**

**must move**

_something wrong_ …

               **must get out**

human

               human friend

                                     

_help…_

 

 

* * *

 

               Darkness. The changeling sleeps restlessly; their breathing comes in fits and starts, their eyes race behind their lids, their body jolts at monsters in their dreams.

               Shadows with nets. Screams that ring too loud. An anger, still burning deep within them, burning, _burning_ …

               All of a sudden, they’re tossed back into consciousness.  The changeling startles at one last scream and jerks up-

 _Bang_.

               They yelp as pain explodes across their forehead – _ow_. They hold their head in their hands, squeezing their eyes shut, feeling other aches and agonies surface. Their leg burns. Their back twinges. Their head hurts, not just from the stinging pain between their eyes but from throbbing in their mind, in their very being.

They shed their legs. They cast off their back. They can make all those pains go away - all of them but for the one in their mind.

               After some time, it seems to subside, and the changeling dares to have a form again.

               They blink open eyes and fix on a wooden shelf just above them, stacked with books. That must be what they banged their head on – ouch, with that sharp corner, too.

               …

               It hits them.

_They’re inside a building._

               The changeling sits up again, and all of a sudden they feel the bounce of a bed – they’re on a bed. Their eyes go wide, taking in the patterned sheets, the white carpet, the desk in the corner with a laptop and a purple spinny chair…

               The library doesn’t have anything like this. Where are they?

               There’s a window; orange light glows from behind the curtain. The changeling rushes over, throws it open and sees-

 _Oh_.

               In the dying light of sunset

 _Oh, no_.

               The tree they sleep on every night. The branch they lie on, bending towards Annie’s bedroom.

_Annie’s bedroom._

               They’re in Annie’s bedroom.

               The changeling’s breath catches in their throat. At that moment, there’s a knock on Annie’s door.


End file.
